


A Mandalorian and a Jedi

by thespookiest



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, cannot promise this will be good but i can promise it will be funny sometimes so hip hip hooray, it's sort of a self insert but i can't write y/n fic so its an oc now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 17:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespookiest/pseuds/thespookiest
Summary: summary coming soon to a theatre near you
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	A Mandalorian and a Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the formatting looks weird! I type everything in word and I cannot for the life of me edit it to look cleaner on here!

_Destruction. And screaming— stars, there’s so much screaming._

_My feet hurt from pounding the jungle floor, but I have to keep moving._

_I have to find her. Before they do._

_The village is still standing, but just barely. So many homes have been destroyed, so many memories torn to shreds._

_Our little home— it has several blaster holes in the walls, but has not crumbled yet. She has to be inside. It’s hard to move through the rubble of the streets, but I have to get inside, have to get my her out._

_“Genevieve!”_

_Her voice calls from the side room, guiding me to her. She’s rushing to me, clutching the saber that I’ve admired since I was little._

_Before I can get a word out, she’s forcing the straps of her old brown satchel over my shoulders and pulling me into a tight embrace._

_“Starlight, please know I will always love you.”_

_My mouth opens to answer her, but nothing comes out._

_“Here, take this and run, Starlight.” She shoves the hilt of her lightsaber into my hands, looking large and menacing in my little hands._

_I don’t get the chance to ask why or where I should even run. She drags me out of the home, getting us a few feet away before a stray storm trooper corners us. He raises his blaster, muttering an insult as his fingers grazes the trigger._

_In the flash of a second, she raises her hand and force pushes me away, sending me flying as the gross sound of a blaster penetrating rings out, a fatal scream piercing my ears._

_Just like that. She’s gone._

~~

Genevieve bolted up right, a scream caught in her throat as she looked around frantically, the jungle around her fading into the beige walls of her hut. Her fingers instinctively flew to her necklace, thumbing the pendant to ground herself in reality.

Once she was certain that she was still on Ostinth and hadn’t gone back in time to the fall of Nevassio, she took a few deep breaths and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the middle of the day, much less dream about her mother’s death for the first time in years. It was always jarring, reliving her mother’s final moments, watching how she wasted her last chance at saving them both on saving her.

It wasn’t lost on her. If her mother hadn’t placed her lightsaber in Genevieve’s hands, she would have been able to block the blaster bolt and saved them both. If her mother hadn’t only been thinking of saving Genevieve, she could have force pushed the storm trooper away instead, and they both could have fled.

She let out a sigh, trying to shake the thoughts that have haunted her ever since her mother’s death. It was hard to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault, especially after having the nightmare. Genevieve knew, logically speaking, that her mother was only being a mother, insistent on protecting her child. She also knew that her mother was one of the last Jedi Masters, and they were nothing without a new generation to rise and take their place.

It was all overwhelming, and always had been.

The sound of a cruiser flying over head snapped her out of it, reminding her she still had tasks to get through. After gathering her supplies, she left her hut and took to the small vegetable garden a few feet away.

Most of the vegetables came from seeds given to her by locals from Moros, the trading post a few miles away. She had grown close with them over the course of the three years she had spent on the planet. While Ostinth wasn’t exactly known for its jedi population (or rather lack thereof), its people were believers of the force, and were thus willing to help Genevieve after learning of her predicament: an ex jedi youngling whose people were slaughtered before she was given a formal training and thus spent the next 7 years running from bounty hunters and imperial servants who sought to rid the galaxy of any remaining jedi.

It was, in short, an exhausting ten years of her life.

As tiring as her existence had always been, however, she couldn’t help but feel joy in her garden.

It was a simple and mundane task that gave her a chance to pretend she was a no one and not Genevieve Arress, daughter of Cri’yatia Arress, general in the Clone Wars and one of the last to become Jedi Masters before the Jedi Purge.

After what could have only been an hour of gardening as No One, the sound of approaching foot steps came from behind her.

“No, Karkae, the Jogan fruits are _not_ ready yet,” she laughed, not turning around.

“Are you Jedi?”

Genevieve froze, blood turning to ice. Her fist clenched around to shovel in her hand as her mind raced, assessing the situation. The voice came from a ways away, possibly far enough for her to get to her hut without getting seriously injured. She was about to stand, but hesitated.

This voice came through a vocal modifier, likely because who ever it belonged to wore a helmet. And the helmeted individuals she encountered were usually heavily armed.

She rose steadily, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“No.” Her voice was firm, an attempt to hide her very real fear.

“I was told that I could find a Jedi here.”

Genevieve paused. Either someone who wanted her dead knew was easily able to track her down, or someone in Moros betrayed her trust and told him where to find her.

She didn’t like what either of these possibilities meant.

“You were misinformed.” She began the walk to her hut not caring to dodge her precious garden, deciding her life may be worth a little more than avoiding trampling some vegetables.

“Wait, please. Are you not Genevieve Arress?”

Her hand rested on the handle of the door. She slowly turned her head, finally laying eyes upon the intruder. She was greeted with the sight of full body beskar armor— a Mandalorian.

“…Who’s asking?”

The man suddenly produced a small child, green with ears that were far too big for its head. “I’ve been quested to bring the child to his people so that they can train him. Are you not the Jedi Genevieve Arress?”

Genevieve finally turned completely around to face the Mandalorian and the small child in his arms. She bit her lip, the little thing staring up at her with anticipation. “No. And yes.”

She was met with a confused silence from the Mandalorian.

“I…Look, I _am_ Genevieve Arress, but I’m not…I am not a Jedi.”

The child held its arms out, reaching for Genevieve. She moved towards them, pulled by the sheer innocence in the little creature’s eyes.

“May I…?” She gestured for the child, sensing the protective aura radiating from the masked man. 

Slowly and hesitantly, he lifted the child towards her, keeping a firm watch on her movements.

A silence fell over the already quiet interaction. With the child in hand, Genevieve sat down, setting it across from her. The pair entered a meditative state, minds linking together through the force.

_Not a Jedi?_ The child inquired, not understanding how she could be an Arress, yet not consider herself a jedi.

_No, young one. My mother…she always meant to train me herself. She was killed when Nevassio fell to the empire._

_Your mother…Cri’yatia?_

_You knew her?_

_Once. Before the massacre._

_You were there?_

_Yes._

Darkness fell over Genevieve’s vision. She was suddenly in a temple on Coruscant, screams filling her ears. Someone picked her up, running out of the temple and offering reassurances dripped in lies. A cloaked figure stood in the distance; a familiarity so strong it hurt. A blue light suddenly ignited from the figure’s light saber; a color once safe suddenly threatening in his hands. They suddenly turned a corner and the figure was out of sight. Bodies littered the floor as whoever carried her ran. Some faces were old, but far too many were young— children, younglings, padawans, the next generation of jedi masters and knights. All dead.

The vision melted away, leaving her breathless.

_Maker…How did you survive?_

_I was rescued by Jocasta Nu. It was her life’s mission to preserve the Jedi Order, and part of that meant saving who she could, including me._

_How did you come to be in the Mandalorian’s presence, if you were with a member of the order?_

_I was separated, hidden away for years. The only reason I was not found was because I had the force. Despite that, the remnants of the Empire learned of my existence and began sending bounty hunters to the Nikto encampment on Arvala-7. The Mandalorian was one of them._

Genevieve shot a brief warning glance at the masked man who watched them.

_Are you in danger?_

_Of course not. He refused to leave me with the man, and has been my protector ever since. He is like a father to me. I know nothing can hurt me as long as he is with me._

_Is that so, young one?_

_My name is Grogu._

_Nice to meet you Grogu. It seems you already know my name._

_Will you be able to train me? You say that you are not a Jedi master, but I sense a closeness within the force._

_I was never trained. I believe you may have a bit more training than even myself._

_I have hidden my powers for so long, I fear I have lost everything I have learned. Anything you know may help us._

_There is another…My mother told me of her as a child. Ashoka Tano— I believe she is still alive, and more than able to train you._

_And what of you? You can help us still. Teach me what you know, so that this Jedi may have an easier time beginning my training._

_Very well._

Genevieve picked Grogu back up, again facing the Mandalorian.

“I cannot train Grogu, not the way he should be, anyway.”

The man tilted his head. “Grogu?”

Genevieve nodded, looking down at the child who placed a hand on her face while gently cooing. “That’s his name. He’s also told me you are like a father to him. His life has been in great peril for years now. His journey with you is the first time he’s felt safe since leaving the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. He’s lucky to have been found by you and not another.”

The Mandalorian paused, sight fixed on the two before them.

“You said you could train him?”

“To an extent. I was never trained; my mother was killed before she got the chance. Grogu tells me, however, that it has been so long since his skills have been refined that anything I can assist with would be useful.”

“Is there someone else who could complete his training?”

The child babbled, playing with Genevieve’s necklace.

“There is another, Ashoka Tano. My mother told me stories about her when I was a child. I know she survived the Jedi Purge, but I don’t know where she is. I can help Grogu learn what he has lost until you find her.”

Genevieve assumed the Mandalorian set his eyes upon the child, who continued cheerfully cooing in her arms.

“I’m not leaving him here.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “How else do you expect him to get training while you search for a true jedi?”

He pondered a moment before speaking. “You’ll have to come with us.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“Where I go, he goes. If you are to train him while I continue the search, you will have to come with us. This is the way.”

An interesting notion, to say the least. She had promised to help the child, but to leave the planet she came to call home, travelling with a Mandalorian and training someone on the run from the remnants of the empire wasn’t exactly part of her plan to stay under the radar. The child in her arms gently tugged on her necklace, bringing her attention down to him. They did not connect through the force this time, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know— _Please come with us_.

She sighed, looking back up at the Mandalorian. “Alright. I’ll join you.” The response earned her excited chatter from the child. Genevieve grinned, then looked around, suddenly realizing she wasn’t sure where they had come from. “Er, how exactly did you get here?”

“I landed the Razor Crest not too far from here.” He looked at the sky, appearing to judge the height of the sun. “It would be dark by the time we made it there. We should probably wait until morning. That should give you enough time to sort out your affairs.”

Genevieve raised her eyebrows with a breathy laugh. “Sort out my affairs? Maker, how long is this journey gonna be?” She set Grogu back onto the ground, letting him poke around the wild flowers that grew native to the planet.

“Long enough.”

The Mandalorian turned to again face Genevieve, his masked gaze burning through her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. It hadn’t truly dawned on her until that moment that she was unable to see the man’s face and thus couldn’t piece together what he was thinking while her emotions were on full display for him to analyze, something that made her feel incredibly vulnerable. After a few moments of silence, Genevieve cleared her throat.

“Well, uh, it is nearing dinner time. Did you two want to er…come inside?” She chewed her lip, cursing herself for letting her nervousness reveal itself in her voice.

After a single nod from the man, Genevieve again made her way to the hut, propping the door open before heading into the kitchen. It was small, housing only a cooler, stove, and a few cabinets.

Genevieve was never one to cook for others, in fact she always avoided it, opting to instead supply the ingredients for meals rather than preparing them. Cooking an actual meal for others was made especially daunting given the fact that it was for a Mandalorian. It wasn’t because of the age-old rivalry between Mandalorians and Jedi (a rivalry she barely understood), but rather because this particular Mandalorian was incredibly stoic, and could quite possibly snap her in half for presenting him a bad meal. The safest option Genevieve could think of was a simple soup, one that her mother made her often as a child.

The sound of the Mandalorian walking into the hut with the child in tow could be heard. Genevieve briefly cast a glance over her shoulder, watching as he looked around, unsure of what to do with himself. She chuckled quietly, assuming it wasn’t often he was invited somewhere for dinner.

“I hope you like soup, Mando. That’s all I really know how to make,” Genevieve called as she readied the broth, a cutting board waiting for the appropriate vegetables sitting on the counter.

He grunted as he watched the child poke around. “How did you find out his name?”

“The force connected our minds. It’s a way of communication, especially useful for situations like this.”

He paused for a few moments. “What did you mean when you said…when you said this was his first time feeling safe since Coruscant?”

Genevieve had taken to chopping vegetables, slowing down as the question hung in the air. “He was there. When Order 66 was executed.”

“Order 66?”

Overcome by surprise at the Mandalorian’s ignorance, she spun around, a daro root in one hand and knife in the other. “Order 66, the Great Jedi Purge. The biggest hit was on Coruscant, which was where Grogu’s jedi temple was. Not many survived the purge, my mother was one of the few.”

“How did she survive?”

Genevieve turned back to her cutting board, chopping at the daro root again. “She sensed a darkness on the planet, felt that an old friend of hers was so far gone into the dark side that it was no longer an option to save him. Not long after she fled the planet, the massacre began.” She dumped the root into the boiling broth, turning the heat down before washing her cutting board and knife.

“And the child? How did he escape?”

“He said a woman named Jocasta Nu saved him. Apparently, it was her duty to preserve the Jedi Order, and as a youngling, Grogu is the future of the order.”

The child cooed from behind her, playing with a straw doll that her friend, Karkae, had given her on the one-year anniversary of her arrival to the planet.

“Where is Jocasta Nu? Was she with him when I found him?”

Genevieve shook her head. “No. He said he had been separated from her before being taken to the encampment. Maker knows where she is now.” She shut the water off and dried her hands, turning to sit at the table and noticing that the Mandalorian was still standing. He shared no more words, but she sensed a sadness wash over him, as though he _deeply_ understood what Grogu had been through and all that he lost.

“You can sit down, you know.”

He slowly pulled the second chair out and sat down, the child almost immediately waddling over and poking at his leg until he was picked up and placed in the man’s lap.

Genevieve pursed her lips, head gently tilted to the side. “Is it true you guys don’t take your helmets off?”

The Mandalorian looked over at her, silent.

“What about to eat?”

Nothing.

“Seriously?”

“This is the way.”

She sat back in her chair, watching as the child played with a little silver ball, clearly content with life. Genevieve couldn’t help but grin. At least he was able to find peace after his life fell to shambles.

“Grogu told me you met because you were meant to be hunting him. He said rather than leaving him with the client, you rescued him. Why?”

He sat silent for a moment, making sure the child was sitting comfortably and would not topple over as he was prone to doing. “It was the right thing to do. He’s a child.”

“Do you usually save your bounties?”

Upon hearing the child referred to so bluntly as a bounty, he clenched his fist. “He is not a bounty. He is an innocent child being hunted by what’s left of the empire, and I’ve sworn to protect him. This is—”

“The way?” Genevieve grinned at the Mandalorian’s silence.

This silence wasn’t frustrated, but flustered. Flustered at having the rationale for his actions questioned when really it was never a matter if he should protect the child, but rather _how._

“Do you not trust my oath to protect him?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…He’s had a difficult and stressful life, but from how happy he looks plopped in your lap without a care in the world, you’d never know.” She looked at the child with fondness, watching his he bobbed the straw doll up and down with a little coo, looking up at the Mandalorian every so often.

The Mandalorian kept still in his seat, silently appreciating that his efforts to keep the child safe were working well enough that the child knew no harm would come to him.

“Thank you.”

Genevieve nodded, eyes glued to the peculiar pair in front of her. She knew the pain of loss and the fear of being alone; at least this child would never again experience the latter.

The sound of the soup boiling over the pot snapped Genevieve out of her thoughts, sending her flying to the stove as she cursed under her breath. After getting the soup back under control, she began serving three bowls and brought them back to the table with spoons.

“Did you…did you want me to leave? So you could eat?” She asked uncertainly, her own bowl in hand in case the answer was yes.

He shook his head gently nudging the bowl away from him. “No, you eat. I’m a guest in your home, I can wait.”

Genevieve sat down uncertainly. “If you say so.” The sound of Grogu’s slurping filled the room. She gently poked at the vegetables in her soup, hyper aware of every movement she made. “Well, uhm, what’s your name then? Since you already know mine, I mean.”

The Mandalorian did not answer.

“What, is it a secret, or something? Or is it part of the never-take-off-your-helmet thing?”

He wiped soup off of the child’s face in response.

Genevieve huffed, setting her spoon down. “So what, do I just call you Mando? That seems highly impersonal.”

“If you’d like. That’s what most people call me.”

She paused, staring at the gleaming helmet opposite the table from her. “How ‘bout bucket head?”

The Mandalorian froze, clearly taken back by the nickname. He looked up at her, and while she could not see the face behind the mask, she knew his expression had to be dumbfounded.

Genevieve smirked, picking her spoon back up to have another mouthful. “I’m not hearing a no,” she chirped.

“That doesn’t—”

“Ah ah! Too late, I like Bucket Head more than Mando!” The child giggled from his perch. “And the kid agrees! Sorry, Bucket Head, you’re outnumbered here.”

The Mandalorian sighed, knowing there was no winning once the child was set on something.

Dinner quickly came to an end with Genevieve deciding to finish her soup as fast as possible without coming across as hasty. While the Mandalorian had insisted she eat her dinner in peace before he ate his own, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable being watched while she ate. She had run out of things to talk about, and he wasn’t much for offering to fill the air.

After slurping down the little that was left of her soup, she cleared her throat. “Well, I’m going to go gather my belongings and let you enjoy your dinner. When you’re ready for bed, there are some blankets in the basket just outside the kitchen, as well as the cot I keep for visitors. My room is just down to the left if you have any questions.”

The Mandalorian offered a nod in thanks. “What is this soup?”

“Taro root soup. My mom used to make it for me when I was sick. You probably would have preferred something heartier, but it’s the only thing I can make with a guarantee that I won’t burn the hut down.” She was met with a quiet chuckle, one she wasn’t sure if she imagined or not. “Well, I’ll be in my room preparing. Have a good rest.”

Once in the privacy of her own room, she sighed. While this was most certainly not the way she had planned her day to go, he couldn’t say she shouldn’t have seen something like this coming. After all, wasn’t it only hours ago that she had accidentally fallen asleep and revisted the memory of her mother’s death?

Death in dreams almost always signify a coming change, even if the death at hand has actually happened. This dream had left her alone for the last five years, so of course the day it suddenly returns would be the day she is suddenly tasked with the mission of accompanying a mysterious Mandalorian and his adorable force sensitive child.

She was an Arress, after all, and no matter how hard an Arress tries, their lives are simply not meant to be lived in total peace and quiet.

Not even for a little bit.


End file.
